


Written In History

by Celestial_Mess1



Series: RosexHux_Fics [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, F/M, GingerRoseWeek2020, Mentions of Rape, Minor Kylo Ren/Rey, POV Third Person, Rose Tico Deserved Better, paige tico dies, the rest only show up at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Mess1/pseuds/Celestial_Mess1
Summary: History books are written for the winners by the winners. As Rose looked up at Armitage Hux she discovered that no one would write anything about them in the history books, but she was okay with that.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: RosexHux_Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740553
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: GingerRoseWeek2020





	Written In History

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: Fighter/Survivor
> 
> I loved writing this one and hope you'll enjoy reading it. So excited to even be able to write for #Gingerroseweek2020. Sorry about the rape tag, Hux notices his father terrible behavior and I just didn't want anyone to be shocked. Let me know what you think in the comment sections. Good or bad. :)

Rose looked over at the man standing by her side. She knew that no one would ever talk about them; no one would write down in history books about the **Fighter** and the **Survivor**. They would always mention the _Scavenger_ and her _Dark Prince_ : how they fell for each other, the force between them, the dyad, the bond, all of that but no one would ever mention how she fought and how the red-head next to her survived.

Nobody would mention that at the age of five, the **Survivor** walked in on his father sexually assaulting a woman. Her tears and helpless cried echoing on unheard ears. The **Survivor** soon realized that the woman was not his mother nor were the women after her.

At the age of five, the **Fighter** had to hold back her anger towards the school yard children who picked on her older sister for wanting to be a pilot. Their jeers and protest were loud as they acknowledge her, and her sister were too ‘other’ to fit in.

No one would document how at ten years old the **Survivor** would sleep on a hard, rotten mat in the broom closet of the academy for asking questions no one told him should not be formed. That his father called him worthless, leaving as many physical bruises as he did emotional. The **Survivor** would be left for dead during most of his training, his fellow cadets treating him as lesser than them, following in the footsteps of a father who was never meant to be one.

At ten years old the **Fighter** had to slink into the night just to see her flesh and blood. How she fought tooth and nail when she was captured, when the flames burned through her planet and the memories of greater days were behind her. She fought with all her might when the men in white tried to kidnap her, the screams of families being ripped apart making it hard for her to breathe.

No one will dictate the trials of a fifteen-year-old **Survivor** who raised in the ranks to become a man more revered by his peers but still hated by his father. A **Survivor** who knew how to grit his teeth and school his emotions, lest his skin give way to hues of purple, pink and red.

Nobody would sing praises of the way the **Fighter** at the age of fifteen started to fill out her clothes. Only men with wandering hands and leering eyes seemed to enjoy the sport of hunting her down for their pleasure. The **Fighter** endured hopping from planet to planet, never staying long and always by her sisters’ side. The **Fighter** kept battling until she met the _Princess_ who told her what she could be fighting for.

At the age of seventeen the **Survivor** had out ranked, outmatched, and outsmarted men twice his age. Instead of appointing him the positions he deserved, his father would use his long corrected unruly behavior to explain how the verbal abuse was merely a way of making him stronger. In the seventh month of Brendol Hux illegitimate child’s life he died. Some say it was because of his evil doing. Only the **Survivor** and his friend, the _Troop Commander_ , really knew what happened. The **Survivor** watched as the vile of poison slipped down the fresher drain, knowing that it would be forgotten just as his father was.

No one would talk about the seventeen-year-old **Fighter** who finally found a home on the opposing side of the war. She now had friends, decent shelter, and a place to belong. She felt as her **Fighter** was slowly dying. It was great, she was great. But her spirit was revived when the **Fighters’** sister was captured and shot down out of the sky. No one would mess with the **Fighter** as she bravely went after the woman. Bringing her back was a short-lived victory and the **Fighter** felt she no longer had the right to question her sister on her recklessness. So instead she fought herself, convincing the warrior inside that the cause was worth it. That everyday a man did not see another fight was okay because tomorrow their enemies would see the error of their ways.

At the age of twenty-two the **Survivor** had mercilessly blown up a whole galaxy system, was revered amongst his men and was serving a man and a protégé that had no idea how to truly win a war, just use their magic. The **Survivors’** disgust at human life was deep. He had no need for human interaction outside of the regulations and found idle chatter to be a nuisance. The only person worth standing was the _Troop Commander_ and even then, that had become too much. When the **Survivor** decided to relax, he purchased a feline companion who wore on his nerves more than he thought the low maintenance animal had the right to. But he could not find the logic in letting it fend for itself. On the tenth month of the **Survivors’** story of his name year, he stumbled back into his chamber, tired and beaten. Realizing he could not stand, the **Survivor** put one last plan in action that would get rid of the magic users and all the other abominations in this world. It needed to have order and peace and only survivors understood that.

Nobody would mention how much it hurts to be a twenty-two-year-old **Fighter** who’s lost a sister, kissed a boy, got rejected by said boy and became friends with a force user all in the span of two months. No one would tell the **Fighter** that she’d have to endure her nightmares and wake up covered in sweat recalling everything she dreamed of, having come true. The **Fighter** would spend long nights talking to herself and early mornings talking to others. The facade was harder to keep now, the strain was too much, the **Fighter** was tired, and she wasn’t sure she’d make it to the final round and win. She wasn’t sure she had any fight left in her. That was until she met the **Survivor**. His correspondence about secrets not meant to be traded gave her fighting spirit the win it needed. She got back to work everyday bent over old machinery that should have been reclaimed years ago. It gave her the drive to move forward, to fight when it felt like everyone around her was settling or dying. But she knew she couldn’t keep the charade up for long and her heart stopped when the _Princess_ came to her and said, “I think your correspondents are getting personal.”

At the age of twenty-seven the **Survivor** didn’t think that he could slip even further into despair but waking up to the idea of soft lips and silky black hair made him weep. He was a strong man of conviction and he still had some fight in him. She made him question if he still had fight in him. He had been surviving for so long that the idea of doing anything else, of the war coming to an end sounded preposterous. He was tired. And he wanted peach and order. If he just stopped fighting and surviving maybe, just maybe he’d find that peace **……………………..**

*****

*****

*****

The **Survivors’** heart stopped on the twelfth month of that year.

*****

*****

At twenty-four the war had ended, and the **Fighter** realized surviving had been all she’d ever known. Surviving, fighting and destruction. How was she going to face her contact with the idea of him kissing her senseless floating around in her head? When the _Scavenger_ walked in, hand in hand with her _Dark Prince,_ the **Fighter** was happy for them, she truly was but she couldn’t get this nagging out of her head that the **Survivor** was no more on this planet. That she might have lost the last person she thought would be close to her. She fell back into her pattern of self-loathing and depreciation but only around herself. In front of people the **Fighter** would fight to pretend to be happy. The war was over. That was what she wanted, right?

The **Survivor** was twenty-nine by the time he made it to the camp. The war had been over for a few months now and all he wanted was to finally hug the **Fighter** and tell her the last twenty years of emotions that threatened to kneel him over. At the sight of the _Dark Prince_ , the man he used his last good hand of cards trying to defeat, the **Survivor** gave up and crumpled to the floor.

Awaking an exorbitant time later, the **Survivor** looked into the eyes of the **Fighter** who was uncontrollably crying over his body. A strange emotion between his chest was expanding. For the first time in what felt like forever he wanted to explore it. He wanted to stop fighting and using his survival instincts. “No need to be so happy, I’m not dead yet.” He stated watching as the **Fighter** practically climbed a top him and peppered him with kisses and acclimations. This was a life he felt he could get used to.

In the third moth of the **Survivors’** thirtieth year and the **Fighters’** twenty-fifth year they stood before the _Princess_ , the _Pilot_ , the _Traitor_ , the _Troop Commander_ , the _Scavenger_ and her _Dark Prince_ and vowed to let go of their fighting an surviving and just decide to live for every day.

And as they walked off hand in hand, no one would mention their journey for years to come. No one would write it down, no would hear their experience except from the _Scavenger_ and her _Dark Prince_. 


End file.
